interfacefandomcom-20200214-history
63
Introductory Text __TOC__ The flow of the river was hard to know The Watcher Narrative Part 02 63rd Post Posted 21 May 2016 at 04:13:16 EDT Link to original The old crone became one of the people, and the people soon began to love her. After her bruises and cuts had healed, she became swirling and bubbly like a young woman. At any time, the people could hear her musical voice babbling on without end, telling stories from different bands of strangers she had met. It was a strong flow of words that could bring anybody into it, even me. She was also very lucky at finding clams, pulling them from the waters whenever she liked, and she sometimes snuck away from the river and came back with rare treats, like snake's eggs and red beetles. The people did not like to go far from the waters of Mother River. Her protection stayed close to the banks, and the rocky land was known to be stalked by spirits of death, fanged evils which became wolves and lions. Even our little cats stayed close the alders and the rushes. But the crone had no fear of such spirits and wandered off among the rocks whenever she pleased. The people whispered about this, but it was known that the crone was once a stranger, so it expected that she would keep strange ways. One day, near the end of the gentle season, the girl Rima disappeared. She was with us in the night and gone the next morning. We searched for her, going up and down the river and sneaking as far as we dared into the rocky lands, but there was no sign of her at all. Some of the women recalled that she had gone with the crone into the rocky lands that day, and at night she had slept near the crone with her two gray cats. Now there was argument among the people. Some accused the crone of talking with the spirits of death. Some accused her of being a spirit herself. Others said she had at least been foolish in bringing Rima out to rocky lands. I was undecided. I did not like the crone nor did I trust her, but people often talked about things they did not know anything about. The flute player Maed argued that the crone had been a great friend to the people, giving us three pearls and much food and telling us the stories and songs of the strangers. I knew that the stories and songs of strangers were worthless, but he spoke very beautifully. As the people argued, the old crone simply watched us, her shriveled stranger's face making no sign at all, her eyes just as calm as the wide waters. Finally, one of the great men asked her to explain herself. She spoke slowly, in trickling words, and the people became silent as they listened. She said that the same thing had happened to the Painted Backs, who were the last group of strangers she lived with. First, a few valuable young women had disappeared in the night, one by one. Then young men were taken. Finally, the Painted Backs were set upon by another group of strangers, monstrous men as white as cave fish, able to take the form of the eagle and the lion, powerful with evil and cruelty. There was much slaughter, and all were taken away except her, as she was protected by Mother River. This brought great fear to the people. The women whispered and burbled while the men showed their chests to seem brave. One of the great men said that this crone was bad luck, that she was somehow muddied with evil spirits. She had brought disaster on the Painted Backs, and she would bring disaster on us. The people agreed. Her journeys into the rocky land had tainted her with evil, and we must get rid of her. The crone said that the evil had not come from her and was not her fault. She said the evil came from Mother River herself. At this, the people became angry. Mother River did not bring evil. She brought the clams and the berries and the cleansing waters, but she did not bring evil. One of the people's great men picked up a rock to brain the crone for speaking against Mother River. The crone showed no fear. She said that Mother River brought both luck and evil. If we were to accept Mother's luck, we would have to accept her evil. But there were ways to increase luck and lessen evil. She said that she had tried to teach these ways to the Painted Backs, but they had not listened and so were destroyed. Because they had not heeded her words, their lives and deeds ceased to flow and were dried up into dust. We all scoffed at this nonsense. Nothing like this was mentioned in the Deeds of the Fathers. So we argued about whether to brain the crone or drown her. In the end, it was decided that we would simply leave her behind, but many of the people grumbled and were unhappy. We left her there at a bend in the river. As we walked away, she made a sign of respect. I expected that she would ask for her pearls back, but she did not. She stayed there by the river's bend, staring into the waters. Later that day, we washed ourselves in the waters to rid ourselves of the evil that had tainted us. In the days that followed, Mother River seemed quiet and sad without the pretty face of Rima and the constant voice of the crone to keep her company. The people wondered if we had made the right choice. The flow of the river was hard to know, and nobody could see the cold depths under the glittering surface. But as the days passed, and we finished the long song of tears for Rima, things became gentle again. Then another girl disappeared. It was the same as before, gone in the night without a sound. Now we knew we were being visited by evil. It was not just the old crone who was muddied by evil. Still, we argued whether the crone had brought the evil or not. So much could not be known, and these arguments flowed nowhere. One of the people remembered that the crone had spoken of a way to increase luck and lessen evil. What if she could prevent us from being destroyed like the Painted Backs? Now there were many arguments and threats, and one man was almost drowned until he was saved by his women. It was decided that this evil was very powerful, and we would have to surrender to it or be destroyed. There was no choice. So, whether the woman was lucky or evil, whether she was helping us or tricking us, we would go to her and do as she said. Killing her would not help. If she could bring evil from far down the river, how much easier would it be to bring evil from the other side of death, which is so close to life? No, we would go to her. I and another man were chosen to go back down the river and find the old crone. She was still at the bend where we had left her, staring into the glittering waters. She smiled as we came to her and asked what we must do.